


Pine: A Bedtime Story

by jolach



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, almost a fairy tale AU but not quite, lumberjack/carpenter otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolach/pseuds/jolach
Summary: A woodsman, a craftsmen, the old story of shaping and being shaped.





	Pine: A Bedtime Story

**Author's Note:**

> When within two days you see [Ovi splitting wood like it's nothing](https://twitter.com/wade_ebooks/status/1000159348281225216) and learn that [Nicklas used to be a carpenter](https://twitter.com/hoosierbea/status/1000783681273901056), you gotta write a flashfic about it. I don't make the rules.

Once, a wild woodsman met a witch on the outskirts of town. His cart was empty, his mules tired, and his lumber all sold, but still he stopped on the road to speak with her, both because he knew it was always good luck to be courteous to a witch and because he was astounded at the beauty of the walking staff she carried.

Mother, he said, because his mother was lost to him and so he called all witches mother, Whose craft is that? Your own? And she told him that it was not her who shaped the wood and carved roses in it, but a youth from that very town, who lived not a mile away, and she told him how he might get there.

Thank you, Mother, he said.

Farewell, Sasha, she said, because that was his name.

So Sasha traveled the path she had told him, looking out for the northern track and the red-berried rowan trees she said would guide his path. And before nightfall, Sasha came upon a yard in disrepair. The little house’s windows were boarded roughly and the stable’s roof rotted half away, and Sasha could hardly believe such fine work came from here, but he knew the witch would not lie.

And so Sasha knocked on the door of the little house.

And he knocked again.

And he knocked a third time.

And on that third time, the carpenter came outside, and Sasha could believe. His face had the pale glow of newly split pine, and his hair was yellow like tulip poplar leaves, and he offered Sasha hospitality though there was little more than bread and cheese in his larder.

Did you make a staff for a witch? Sasha asked after they had broken bread together, and the carpenter said that he had. It is beautiful, Sasha said, and the carpenter was pleased, for while he had created many works, that was his favorite, for he had made it in thanks after the witch had cured him of a fell sickness.

It was carved from walnut, Sasha said, and the carpenter nodded. I know where to find more, Sasha said, because he had traveled more of the forests than anyone and spent more nights under trees than indoors. I can bring it to you. And the carpenter was pleased, because that had been the only piece of walnut wood he had ever seen, and Sasha was pleased, because finding wood was his trade and his living, and because he wished to see what new works the carpenter would create.

And so Sasha spent the night bedded down in the damp stables with his mules and his dog, and in the morning he set off to find walnut trees for the carpenter, whose name was Nicklas.

Walnut trees were very rare, rarer than birches or oaks or spruces, but Sasha knew of a copse of them growing in a forest three days north. And so he made his way, foraging for food in the woods he knew so well and sleeping each night between his fire and his dog, until he found the trees he was looking for.

There were no more than ten, proud and clustered together with nuts piling up underneath them. Sasha chose one tree, neither the oldest nor the youngest, and set to biting through it with his iron axe, which had belonged to his father before him, and it fell within the hour.

Three days later, Sasha returned to the yard with the little house and the stables, and saw that the brush that had been overtaking the yard had been cleared back, and the carpenter had brought out his plane and his adze and his saw in preparation for Sasha’s return. And the carpenter rejoiced at the wood Sasha had brought back, and paid him his promised price, and offered Sasha his hospitality that night again. And though supper was still bread and cheese, that night Sasha saw that the stables had been cleaned, and the hay he slept on was fresh.

In the morning, the carpenter was already planing the walnut when Sasha awoke, and Sasha would have left, happy, if Nicklas had not said, Wait.

It will be brewing season soon, he said, And the cooper needs wood for barrels. Can you bring me white oak?

And Sasha said, Of course, because white oak was much easier than walnut, and because the carpenter had smiled with wood shavings in his hair, and because he had seemed a much different man than the one who had fed Sasha the week before.

When Sasha next returned, his mules laboring and his cart dragging heavy tracks in the road, he could see already that much of the walnut was gone, and in its place stood a beautiful trunk, with horseshoes carved in its lid.

Will you help me take it to the blacksmith? Nicklas said. I will pay you.

And Sasha unloaded the white oak from his cart and said, Of course. And for Sasha it was a pleasure to behold the carpenter’s work, and to know from where the wood came, and to ride to town with it and the carpenter in his cart.

The blacksmith paid handsomely for the trunk, which was fine work, and Nicklas stopped in town to buy bread, and cheese, and herring, and carrots, and of the coin that was left he gave Sasha a part for his help, and he asked if Sasha would come back the next week to help him bring the oak planks to the cooper.

And Sasha said, Of course.

And so a week passed as it normally did for Sasha and his mules and his dog, traveling from town to woods to town, except that Sasha felt that the days moved slower than they ever had before, and when the time came to return to the yard with the rowan trees he pressed his mules so that they arrived earlier than he had planned, and the carpenter was not yet finished.

Sasha had not known the size of the labor, and it seemed to him that Nicklas had done far more than one man might have done alone, and Sasha was struck by the effort of his body. You did so much without help? Sasha asked.

There is no one else, Nicklas said.

Why? Sasha asked, because he knew well that no man was alone but by choice, but Nicklas said nothing as he completed the work. When he was finished, Sasha helped him take the planks to the cooper’s shop in town, which took four trips in Sasha’s cart. The cooper was pleased, and promised to come to Nicklas again, and paid Nicklas not just in coin but in a cask of beer.

Will you help me take this home? Nicklas asked, and this time Sasha laughed in answer.

In the yard with the little house Nicklas gave Sasha his share of the coin and of the beer, and while Sasha had always enjoyed the carpenter’s hospitality he now found it considerably improved, and told him so, to the carpenter’s delight.

And so it was that every time Sasha came to the yard with the rowan trees and the little house, he found work and a meal and a place to bed down, and while his habit was to range further afield, he found that he became unrestful if he did not spend at least one night per fortnight in the carpenter’s stables, and did not set his eyes on his poplar hair. And the carpenter found that his work had never come easier than when he knew the woodsman would be there to see it soon.

Fall came, bringing its longer nights, and when Sasha next saw the carpenter, Nicklas said, I have need of shingles. White oak works best to keep out the rain; can you bring me some?

And Sasha said, Of course, and also, Who do you think I am, because by then he had brought Nicklas enough white oak to shingle the whole town, and Nicklas laughed.

And when Sasha came back not two days later, he asked, Where will you need me to take the shingles when they are ready?

And Nicklas said, Nowhere, and when Sasha returned before the next full moon he saw that the stable’s roof had been repaired and the inside was clean and warm as it had never been before, and Sasha and his mules and his dog slept like royalty.

In the morning, Sasha asked Nicklas, What else?

And Nicklas said, Winter will be here soon, and there is rot in one of the walls of the house. Can you bring me pine, as high as two men and as straight as you can find it?

And Sasha said, Of course, and also, Do you want to come with me? Because he knew better than anyone the satisfaction of seeing things from their source.

But Nicklas said, I do not go to the woods, and said nothing more, and Sasha did not ask again.

Sasha journeyed for three days to find a grove of pine that was worthy, straight and tall and true. He felled enough to fill his cart as full as his mules could carry, axe cutting swiftly through the soft wood, and set out along a mountain road that would carry him home more quickly than the way by which he had come. However, on the second day, a great rainstorm came, and mud and rocks rolled down the mountain, and though Sasha was able through speed and strength to save the mules and the dog and the pines and himself, when they finally reached safety he discovered the handle of his axe had snapped in half. This caused him great sorrow, as his axe had belonged to his father before him, and had carried Sasha through many hard years.

When he arrived back to the yard with the rowan trees the next day, he was surprised to see another person there, a tall and slender youth.

Who is that? he asked Nicklas when Nicklas appeared.

What has befallen you? Nicklas asked him in return, frightened by his appearance, and Sasha told him of his flight down the mountain.

Nicklas entreated Sasha to rest in his own small bed in the house, but Sasha would not go, and Nicklas, despairing of convincing him, allowed him to retreat to the stables.

Who is that outside? Sasha asked again when Nicklas returned with beer and bread.

I have taken an apprentice, Nicklas said, Because I discovered I needed more help than I thought.

And Sasha said, So stubborn, and Nicklas laughed, and Sasha slept at last. And Nicklas was glad to see him sleep, and stayed there with the mules and the dog until his fear was gone.

In the morning, Sasha washed in the stream behind the little house, and he watched Nicklas’s apprentice begin to plane the pine to replace the little house’s rotten siding.

Nicklas came to him and said, You chose the wood well, and Sasha thanked him. And then Nicklas said, Come inside and help me.

And Sasha said, Of course.

Inside, by the fire, Sasha saw his broken axe alongside several lengths of wood. Nicklas said, What feels right? and Sasha tested the different textures and weights of wood carefully before deciding on a simple length of ash.

Nicklas said, Good, and then he put his hands on Sasha’s hands for a long time so that he might feel the way he held the axe and shape the wood to suit him.

The new handle fit Sasha’s hands perfectly, and the memories warmed him when he held it, and Nicklas had a new favorite amongst all his works.

Sasha used the axe well. Sasha brought Nicklas cherry wood to carve delicate handles for knives, ordered by the richest man in town. Sasha brought Nicklas willow branches that he turned quickly into flutes, and Sasha took Nicklas to town in his cart to sell the flutes to children a penny apiece. Sasha brought Nicklas enough birch to pile his fires high all winter.

Nicklas and his apprentice stripped the rotted boards from the eastern wall of the little house and replaced them with Sasha’s pine, fitted tight and safe against the winds.

The winds were colder, now, and Sasha could smell winter on them, and he knew he would soon need to find a place to stay, for not even he could survive on the roads or in the woods over the coldest months. And he said to Nicklas, I can perhaps go out one more time for you. What would you like?

And Nicklas said, Find me one more walnut tree.

And so Sasha traveled three days north, back to the walnut copse, and took one more tree, neither the oldest nor the youngest. And this time he also filled a sack with the nuts beneath the trees, for he thought they would make the carpenter smile, and he hoped they would keep memory strong until spring.

And when he brought the walnut back to Nicklas, the carpenter indeed smiled, and thanked him, and paid him the promised price. And he said, Come back to me in three days.

And Sasha was afraid by then there would be no farms or inns or smiths left looking for a winter laborer, and while he had coin laid aside he did not have enough to let a room for the season, but he said, Of course.

So Sasha spent three days wandering in his most loved areas of the woods, saying goodbye until the spring. And he saw that, as always in the fall, there were acorns and birch nuts and hazelnuts underfoot, and he gathered up some of each, thinking of the open land behind the little house and that, if Nicklas could not go to the woods, the woods perhaps could go to him.

When three days had passed, Sasha and his mules and his dog took the path back to the rowan trees, and Sasha marveled to see how the little house and the stables and the yard looked bright and new and well-loved. And when Nicklas came out to greet him, he thought: of course they are.

And when he entered the little house, he saw a well-stocked larder, and he was proud of what Nicklas had bought with the coin he had earned, and he saw a roaring fire, and he was proud of himself.

And when Nicklas led him to the little house’s one small room, and showed him the large bed with roses carved in the walnut headboard, he felt something entirely new.

There is room, Nicklas said. If you would stay.

And Sasha drew him joyfully down to the bed, and though they were two strong men, the bed was well-built, and strong enough to hold them. And Sasha laughed, and embraced the carpenter, and said, Of course.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was different and weird! But fun. Thanks for reading—comments help my fires burn high.
> 
> Thanks as always to [kingoftheimpossible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsoftheimpossible/) and [angularmomentum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angularmomentum/) for indulging this weird impulse and for all the wood-based puns y'all tormented me with.


End file.
